


lay down your head

by centreoftheselights



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Development, Chronic Fatigue, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Cuddling & Snuggling, Disabled Character, Emotional Support, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, F/F, Future Fic, Hair stroking, Love, Post-Canon, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the game, Rose's world isn't what she thought it would be, but she's learning to adjust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lay down your head

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for [Femslash Diversity Bingo](http://centrumlumina.tumblr.com/post/145605022111/hey-everyone-over-on-femslashrevolution-im), prompt "Chronic Illness".
> 
> As some of you might know, this one is pretty personal, so I hope you get something from it.

The room is dark and quiet and still, full of soft cushions and elegantly draped scarves and the gentle music of a violin. The name of the piece escapes Rose; it is not something she knows how to play herself, but the sound of the instrument has always been soothing to her.

Beyond the closed door, the sound of voices – the hubbub of a party Rose quietly excused herself from an hour or two earlier – has faded into silence. She is roused from her half-trance by the gentle pad of footsteps, although she does not react until she hears Kanaya's knock at the door.

“Rose?” The question comes gently. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” she answers.

For a moment, Kanaya's silhouette is visible against the harsh light of the hall beyond, but then she closes the door behind her. Rose's eyes burn at the brief brightness as she readjusts to the dark.

“Our friends send their best wishes,” Kanaya informs her. “And your brother says to 'do a double backflip out of consciousness and take home the cup for sleepytown.'”

Rose smiles. “It was nice to see everyone. It's been too long.”

Tonight was the first party they had thrown since her illness – another small step in the forging of their new normality. All things considered, it had been a success. Rose had even broken John of his habit of saying that she “didn't look sick”, although Karkat still looked at her with concern every time the topic was mentioned.

And she had withdrawn an hour before the party drew to a close, and come to this dark, quiet space where she could lie down and let the exhaustion wash over her. Weariness tugs at every part of her as though her bones are made of lead, and her thoughts are sluggish and clouded in her mind.

“Can I stay?” Kanaya asks.

Rose considers the question for a moment.

“If you like. But I'll probably fall asleep soon.”

“That's fine.” Rose can hear the smile in Kanaya's voice even though it's too dark to see her face clearly. “I wanted to do some sewing anyway. Do you need any help?”

“No,” Rose says. “I'm all ready for unconsciousness.”

She rolls onto her side – a less comfortable position for her aching shoulders, but one that makes her feel less like a corpse stretched out on a slab. Kanaya is changing out of her evening gown into a nightdress, and the moonlight through the blinds catches on her curves, sketching an outline – waist, shoulder, horn.

It is a particular irony not lost on Rose, to have survived aliens and monsters and the death of universes, only to be laid low by such a peculiarly human condition.

Myalgic encephalomyelitis. A monstrosity of a name, but she prefers such an oblique tangle of syllables to the simplicity of saying 'chronic fatigue'. It had hit her like a meteor from a blue sky, turning her movements slow and faltering and eating away at her thoughts like acid. By the time the diagnosis had finally been made, she was all but useless – or so she felt. So she had shut herself away from the world.

Fortunately, her friends were not so easily deterred. She had been alternately cajoled, pestered and yelled out of her depression, and slowly regained some semblance of normality.

Not that everything was alright. Some days she was filled with unbearable malaise that left her moping in her room for hours. Some days her symptoms flared up so badly that all she could do was lie in a dark room, trying not to move. Some days she was so angry at the world, her body, herself that all she wanted to do was strife until she burned, consequences be damned.

But other days -

Kanaya slides into the bed beside her, arranging the pillows so she can sit comfortably. The smooth satin of her nightgown is cool against Rose's touch, and although she cannot see it, doubtless far more elegant than the warm flannel she has chosen for herself. Rose wraps one arm around Kanaya's legs and lays her head in her lap, and Kanaya obligingly begins to stroke her hand gently through Rose's hair. Rose sighs happily as she relaxes into the sensation.

“This isn't going to sleep,” Kanaya teases, gently.

“Soon,” Rose protests. “Don't stop.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

Although she can't possibly sew in this position, Rose knows Kanaya is true to her word.

“Tonight was -” Synonyms dance in Rose's mind, just out of reach of her grasping thoughts. “Good. Fun.”

Frustrated by her clumsiness, she adds: “It felt like living again.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself,” Kanaya responds. “We should do it again sometime. I'm sure you aren't the only one who's missed our little get-togethers.”

“I'd like that.”

Kanaya chuckles gently. “Darling, have I ever told you that you're unusually candid when you're tired?”

Once, Rose had thought that strength meant never showing weakness, hiding her true thoughts behind thick layers of misdirection and obfuscation. But in these last few months, she's been forced to learn a different way of being – a new vulnerability which terrifies her as much as it exhilarates her.

But she doesn't have the words to express that sentiment at this moment, so instead she says:

“I love you.”

“And I adore you,” Kanaya responds, as naturally as breathing.

And as Rose drifts slowly asleep to the sound of violins and her lover's breathing, her last thought is that she would not change this night for anything.


End file.
